If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. But if it smells funny, you should sure as hell eat it. Like that food – where it smells really good but tastes like sandpaper and rock salt. Without enough salt. If it smells bad, it might taste really good. Like creme brulée, that hard crispy top prevents the wonderful aroma from escaping. Blowtorches and food, like blowtorches and fixing things. What better way to make everything not broke? Click HERE for MORE! »
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Archive for the 'How-To' Category
Experience the zest and flair of an undercooked pork chop in 3 easy steps.
This morning I looked to the sun, but my retinas said no. This afternoon I looked to the sidewalk, but the swish of a passing windbreaker disagreed. This evening a snack stared back me, whispering gently about nipples. Chest nipples.
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Here’s a little bit of old fashioned tang for your timbers, straight from the terrible turbine. Top that tasty bit of tremendous alliteration. Ah crap, I broke the string. When I was a muffin, I had no muscle for marmalade, yet while muttering about making a mess a maliciously marring haymaker from a magnetic monster muddled my migration. Stupid haymakers ruin everything.
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Now I bet you’ve thought about household names in the last thirty-seven seconds, but what about those special household items, the buggers you are so fond of? Friends like fortified foundation, jambalaya door jamb, the squeaky stair, sticky door knob, whiney o’hinge, drippy faucet, moist bread box, clumpy tooth paste, sulfur-scented stove, double-dipped mop head and bountiful banister. There’s no time to ponder, this here is squirrel country.
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Non habit forming, they say. I say, it’s about as habit forming as a nun. It’s like painting a smock on your t-shirt. If the shoe fits, the stamp needs adhesive, it shouldn’t be worn, and postal employees may look at you with an odiferous glare. Yes, today is your day and you can finally get back to studying the intricacies of How-To’s instead of spending all of your time looking up song lyrics and ogling interactive maps. Click HERE for MORE! »
Don’t Laurasia from my Pangaea! Fine then, I don’t care, you picked and now I get Gondwanaland. I have Gondwanaland and I’m not trading it, so who’s happy now! Whatever, Jimmy, my mom is not a fossil. Your mom’s so Triassic that she suffers from continental drift. Your mom’s so volcanic that she always aims for a second tectonic plate when she’s shooting ash. Yeah, that’s right, you go ahead and cry. Your mom made the dinosaurs go away and they were awesome and I’m never going to forget. Click HERE for MORE! »
Since the beginning of time, philosophers have wondered about the nature of God. But what about the nature of gas? It’s got to be somewhat individual; everyone has their own genetic palette of intestinal rumblers. Maybe I’m genetically predisposed to high sulfur exports when I eat pan-seared kielbasa, potatoes and onions. Potato-leek soup doesn’t cause me to clear out the room, but I hear that can be a real kicker. There are the legendary combinations that seem to span quite nicely across the landscape of human digestion. I’d nominate any combination of salsa and beans. What’s that? You weren’t listening? Well, then, I heartily recommend the week-old shrimp scampi with a sprinkling of society’s crumbling foundations on top.
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So I hear that the National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration is collaborating with musician Lou Bega so that all hurricanes from this date forth will be christened from the family-values-stomping hit “Mambo No. 5.� I admire the government for putting down the war-on-porn beating stick and helping its citizens to realize that a little bit of someone (even Rita) isn’t all they need. Speaking of Ritas, pass the tequila.
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In the future crabs will be a good thing. Instead of all that itching, they will be engineered to keep you dry and ventilated. They’ll stay in great shape by waving their little fan-like arms all the livelong day. There’s nothing symbiotic about itchiness, but if you had a little army of friends that kept you fresh, it’d be better than Gold Bond. That stuff really burns the men who guard the ass fort. It’s not an obscure reference; it was on basic cable! Why don’t you go Bea my Arthur, you lemon-scented ice queen! You can’t tell me to go to my room! Why don’t you go Rue the neighbor’s tender McClanahan! FINE THEN, HAVE IT YOUR WAY. Until you learn to behave, How-To’s will be posted on Wednesdays, you stupid tattle-tailing meaniehead.
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So you’re thinking “Hey, those jerks slacked off and missed Tuesday’s post! Kalamazoo to Bronx, I’ll get them yet!” Well did you ever think that maybe we had our own troubles to worry about? Like saving your sorry butt from the invasion of the moth people, that you never even knew was happening because we did such a good job defending earth? Huh? HUH? Yeah, that’s right. Guilt trip. Now enjoy two piping hot How-To’s, fresh out of the oven. Jerks. Click HERE for MORE! »
After the leprechaun on my shoulder whispered an idea to me and ran away, the firemen came, and there was white snow everywhere! It didn’t taste very good when I tried to catch it on my tongue though. Click HERE for MORE! »
And so this whole cloning thing came about and we figured hey this has to be the be-all end-all breakthrough and we’ll all be superbeings walking on the moon by 2020, but instead we do the same damned thing over and over again and so this whole clobibg thibg came about and we figured hey this has to be the be-all ebd-all breakthrough abd we’ll all be superbeibgs walkibg ob the moob by 2020 bbd so this whole clobibg thibg cbme bbout bbb so this whole clobibg thibg cbme bbout bbb bo thib whole clobing thibg cbme bbout bbb bb thib whble blbbibg thibg cbme bbbut bbb bbb… Click HERE for MORE! »
In high school phys-ed, we had to climb a rope. That wouldn’ve really bothered me, except for the fact the when we were on it, the teacher would yell “swing hearty me lads, the hounds be upon ye!” Now that always creeped me out.
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Avast sailor, Man O’ War thirty degrees to starbord! Run up the mainsail! Bring in the anchor! And so help me neptune, unless you want to sleep in Davy Jones’ locker, fire the baby cannon!
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All I know about my dad is that my Mom’s endlessly saying “That damned JD”. I always thought she was talking about the milkman, but his head isn’t shaped like a rotten melon.
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OK, so maybe our comic’s gotten a little gay. What’s wrong with that? Hmm? Hmm? Who among us hasn’t craved a little man-on-man action? Well, ok, except me of course. And him. And that other guy. And that girl over there who we’re pretty sure is actually a guy. But other than us, come on. You can admit it. We won’t tell. Come over here and we’ll give you a nice big manly hug. With absolutely no homoerotic overtones, of course. Boy you smell nice.
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Ever have one of those nights when you just feel like cutting loose and having a few drinks, and before you know it you’re dancing on the bar wearing your uncle Jeff’s high heels and stockings that he keeps hidden in the back of the closet? Really? Guess that’s just me.
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Have you tried just about everything under the sun dried tomatoes to get rid of your back pain? Lower back pain? Quasi-intestinal pain with a dollop of tailbone torment? Are you tired of those magnetic therapy bracelets that make you look like you support Lance Armstrong’s fund for people wearing pink shirts with popped collars? Well there’s a secret solution to this preposterous problem. Ditch your daily double, your recurring remittance, your semiweekly salary, your jabby job. Then go ahead and gambol towards paganism, unicorn/devil worship, and the lecherous stock market economy.
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With this sensuous How-to, we return to our classic format, three panels to be adored by all. Bask in the conformity, nay, unity, of these panels. Envisage them covered in marmalade, dancing by a campfire with the aroma of chestnuts and burnt squirrel wafting throughout the not-so-sedentary colloquialism of the mother earth spirits meticulously crafted smorgasbord of life. Hummus-cabbage explosion! Righty-o, Carry on. Click HERE for MORE! »
In an effort to keep you on your toes, this How-To is only one panel. “One panel?” you say, “Aren’t you giving away the surprise before I even see it?” Yes, we’ve given away the structure. But think of the synthesis of the humor, the top-notch quality this one panel must contain! We’ve completely reinterpreted the whole necessity for a triptych of panels, a progression of events. This one panel is the alpha and the omega, not just one of many, but THE ONLY. Now take a deep breath and let that wave of conceptual titillation go and embrace the low-brow simplicity. Click HERE for MORE! »
So this is the second week in a row where the Friday How-To has been late. Now now, let’s not point fingers and say it was this many hours or minutes or seconds or even days late. It’s all relative, so this supposed infringement in our contractual obligation is really nothing more than a temporal shift in the perception of funny. That and I discovered Mojitos. You brie-cheese-spreading NPR-donating Rove-snorkeling Leftorium-supporting bible-clumping Shetland-whumping Orlando-thumping Brando-gumping industry cats would probably spell that Mohito, but we’re trying to class up this operation with a little cultural sofisticación. Click HERE for MORE! »
Nothing gives you validation quite like one of those little kits with the red crosses on them. Think of it this way - red crosses validate, blue crosses insure, black crosses gothify, silver crosses cause pregnancy and lycanthropic irritation, transparent crosses. . .well those are “special” items. There’s even an opaque cross of +1, that’s the bomb spiggity. Click HERE for MORE! »
I was looking at some flights, you know, because my sister was eaten by a boat. Then I found one that left from Newark. Should I take this moment to rag on NJ about smelling not-so-fresh? No, that would just be unnecessary. And for those of you who checked for a new How-To on Friday, we just uh, posted this late. Not on Monday or anything. Your outfit looks hotter than usual, and your hair really pulls the whole look together. Keep up the good work, you froufrou cookie muffin you. Click HERE for MORE! »
So I was surfing teh intarweb one time and there was this banner ad that was all like, “see teh hottest digital reviews with lots of pix and teh most hardcorest action evAr” so I clicked on in and d00d was it raunchy. There was this card reader that had 12 formats going into it at once! TWELVE! And I thought my sister was tearing apart the moral fabric of society. Click HERE for MORE! »
Ah, to be home on the range. Installing a range top. When Little Timmy isn’t within the range of Janet and Ted’s adult talk. Maybe Little Timmy will grow up to have a wide vocal range. Or maybe he just needs to run away to be a scout ranger and find a long-range rifle. Click HERE for MORE! »
What’s that you say, snuggly nubbins? You don’t think How-Tos are funny? Or even worse, you don’t “get” them? Well then today is your lucky day. It’s like the village is only half on fire today! Don’t think this will happen again though. The TPS reports will start the burnination very soon. Click HERE for MORE! »
Remember when you were a kid, first learning to read? And every time you were in a car, you would attempt to read every single sign and advertisement possible? And then you’d inevitably get carsick and feel like it was time to say hello again to the omelette you’d eaten earlier that morning? Maybe that’s why I hate reading now. Click HERE for MORE! »
This How-To is opprobriously similar to Bob Vila: sometimes it hurts to be the best. Kind of like when you’re trying to be all tough and you open a twist off bottle cap only to find it’s not a twist off and you need to wash your hands because they’re covered in freedom fry grease.
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This one time the manager bought two pints of blueberries and two boxes of rice crispies (not tm). I wonder if he was going to pour it all over the sweater puppies he keeps under his desk. Oh those poor sweater puppies, always dripping something.
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I found a little secret. Usually there is some conversational dribble expected on a visit to the office water cooler. But Now every time my tongue has a hankerin’ for some cold crisp contraband, I just start hyperventilating. People don’t expect you to talk when you’re out of breath, turning red, and have happy schitzophrenic butterflies in your food tub.
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“Let’s get physical” would never have been a hit if it was really about getting a physical. No one in their right mind wants to hear Olivia Newton John say, “Turn your head and cough.” Theres something distinctly un-sexy about sitting on one of those physician seats with the paper sticking to your clamminess.
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Have you ever taken a one of those fancy-schmancy electric muffin bakers and just kept on stuffing them with chinchillas? You’d be amazed how much those things compress once you crunch down all the fur. It’s like they’re playing a little game of hide and seek inside their own skin!
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What’s that? Why didn’t we post a How-To on Tuesday? BECAUSE TUESDAY IS MADE OF PEOPLE, YOU SICK CANNABALISTIC HUMANOID UNDERGROUND DWELLERS! And now to appease you people-eating people-eaters, we somewhat proudly present the first exclusive collector’s edition How-To double header! Two comics, NOT MADE OF PEOPLE.
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Technology: Making things that were incognizable as clear as mud. Remarkably simple and sensible, the mud that makes it clear is mixed with oil, psychoanalysis, haberdashery, corn cobs, pancake hammers, burgerfist unicorns, furry starfish gonads and other keywords that yield a miscellany of hilarity.
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Looking back to my childhood, I don’t like to label it his mid-obsolescence crisis. It’s not that he didn’t love his family; it’s just that he could never express his feelings. When he got angry and crashed, I knew it was just his way of saying I love you.
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My precious Video Game Console, you’ve always been there for me. You’ve made me laugh when I was sad, made me scream when you crashed before I saved my game. You made me caress your CD tray and whisper sweet nothings in your controller port after you fell off the TV stand. I want the voltages from your capacitors all over my body. We can bathe in level 12 eternity together. A tub. A console. Lots of hot, soapy water. High Voltages.
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So it turns out that the younger brother of the Really Gay Couch (see How-To: 05-06-05) has some skeletons in its cushions that have been festering since childhood.
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Subtlety is pretty sweet, but sometimes it’s even more fun to just shout, “Eiffel Tower!” at the top of your lungs. What a great architectural (cough) achievement. Ahem.
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<british>The battle between British and American grammar rages on, this time wreaking havoc in a quaint room not much unlike your own, the victim the RGC*. Not even Tony Blair’s twofer-turned-threefer reelection can stop the violence.</british>
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Corners may cause chafing. We recommend some talcum powder for your nethers. Not that we’re giving anything away before you read the comic, or anything, whatever, commas.
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Consuming raw or undercooked souls may increase your risk of Virgin-born illness, especially if you have certain spiritual conditions or are already headed to purgatory.
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“Word around the office is you’ve got a heavy duty printer. I’ve got a heavy duty printer too. We should get together sometime. You. Me. Some toner. Two heavy duty printers. Toner.”
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Do your part to help stop furniture-based abuse with Antonio-Banderas-assisted defenestration with a side of extra-hyphenation-catsup.
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The (usually) long and arduous process of selecting a new pope is shrouded in mystery and stained cloths, but here at Burning Village, we have the inside story instead of a bunch of colored smoke! Read on to find out what really happens in the deep, dark recesses of the Vatican.
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Remember when you were a kid and you used to put glue on your hands just to peel it off? Imagine that on a larger scale.
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This all new special edition How-To includes more offensivisity than before. Is that a real word? 8 out of 10 Ninjas say yes (please do not disagree with the Ninja tribunal).
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The first 3 installments of the How-To series. Try reading them vertically after you read them horizontally, it gets even more random.
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